


Ignite Our Wounds

by blakesparkles



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Cooking, Cuddles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Heat Stroke, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Slavery, Nightmares, Nudity, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars, Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed, Slavery, Touch-Starved, Vomiting, Vulnerability, Yearning, after the finale, dont worry there is a lot of comfort, helmet comes off, might add more tags later!, they are pining but they are stupid ur honor, this is big self indulge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29445324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakesparkles/pseuds/blakesparkles
Summary: He curls his toes on the floor and clenches his hands, aware of his messy hair and the dark circles under his eyes. Cobb's shoulders fall and he sighs, as though he found what he was looking for in the mandalorian.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 63
Kudos: 191





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I don't post a story in a very long time and this is my first Star Wars one, so I'm kind of rusty. I've been writing this since January and it's almost done. Just need a final boost! Hope you all enjoy! :)

Nothing could have prepared Din Djarin for what happened.

All that he's ever learned and trained for were nothing to him in that mere moment. There was no way for him to know how hard it would be to give the child away. Not only to a Jedi, but to a complete stranger. It broke Din's heart, to feel Grogu's soft touch on his skin for the first time. Such a tiny little thing, yet so strong. It brought him to tears. It was as if the child himself was comforting Din, when it should have been the other way around. He did the right thing and yet, it felt like ripping a piece of his soul. The kid's shining eyes is the last thing he remembers and he holds onto that, for the rest was a blur. Bo-Katan speaking of them crossing paths and fighting another day, Fennec and Boba walking with him while Cara pursed her lips. The Slave I. Quiet. A buzzing in his ears. A helmet in his hands. Heavier than usual.

He blinks, bringing himself to the present, and looks around the ship to ground himself. Cara is sitting across from him, a question in her eyes. His lips tighten before slipping the helmet back on, not knowing what to do with his face, but he feels exposed anyway. Din’s head is throbbing, his whole body sore, and his chest is aching from a beating heart. Adrenaline rushing in his veins, replaying what happened over and over. The brown-haired man feels no relief after completing his mission. There is an uncertainty in the air that threatens to crush his very bones. Even more when Boba offers to leave him somewhere, his tone gentle as if not to frighten an animal. Din doesn't know where to go. For the first time, since he was a child, he feels incredibly lost. The ground beneath his feet is unstable and his hands are shaking, words stuck in his throat.

It must show. They must feel how odd Din is right now because Boba sighs and shoots Fennec a look. Another moment of silence and the brown-haired man takes a deep breath with a wince, vision swimming. He’s nauseous but he fights through it, clears his throat and tigthens his hands into fists. Forces himself to think. Din barely catches Fennec’s words of Tatooine and he murmurs something about it. Peli, he thinks. She could help him get back on his feet. Guide him to another bounty once he’s fully healed. There’s no protest, only Boba setting the coordinates and the weight of hyperspace on his chest. If his hand moves to the right as if to keep Grogu on his seat, no one mentions it. Din’s heart sinks, a cold line down into his stomach. God, he’s tired.

The Slave I shaking is what jolts him awake, having no memory of falling asleep. His body moves before his mind can catch up, standing when Boba confirms they are close to the spaceport. Hangar 3-5, just like he asked. Din says his thanks, hoping he really does sound grateful for what they’ve done. Cara asks if he’s sure this is where he wants to be, if he will be alright by himself, and he nods while straightening his back. The brown-haired man is lightheaded when stepping out of the ship, the suns immediately blinding his visor for a good second before adjusting to it, and he bids them farewell. His eyes squint even with the helmet on, the heat wrapping around him like a blanket, and he walks towards the Hangar whilst too aware of the new weight on his hip. The Dark Saber shuffling lightly as he goes. A promise of a battle for another day. One he doesn’t look forward to it at all.

Din hears the ship leaving behind him, the wind rising the sand under his feet, and he can hear Peli yelling at her droids already. It takes a few minutes for her to notice his presence, but when she does, a wave of anxiety hits him. Din knows the first thing Peli will ask, what she will be searching for. He swallows, knowing there is nothing in his hands. No pouch with a kid inside. Peli puts her hands on her waist and she asks just that. Frowning at Din, finding it strange that he didn’t land with his ship. Din holds back a painful groan, his stomach folding, and he shakes his head. It’s a mistake. It hurts more. Like a hammer going straight into his skull. He can’t do this. He can’t stay there and watch her face fall when finding out. Instead, he asks for a speeder. Peli calls him rude, saying he arrives without a simple hello. Din promises to explain later, he really does. He gives her all his credits, the little that he has, and she sighs.

He needs to go.

Just _go._

The moment he hops onto the old speeder, he just drives without looking back. The ache in his body keeps him going, tells him he’s alive. The heat is unforgiving in Tatooine, yet he ignores it all. Din breathes, a thin layer of sweat underneath his armor, and he lets the desert swallow him. Foolish boy. Thinking he had a place to stay. The Razor Crest was the closest he had of a home and look what happened to it. Din didn’t think about Peli looking at him with pity, didn’t think about having to actually explain himself. To say it out loud. It’s like a fresh wound, too sensitive to poke it yet. So he goes, not stopping for anything. Din passes by Tuskens and banthas, not sparing a second glance. He stares straight ahead, letting his body take him somewhere. Hours and hours go by and the brown-haired man feels his skin practically burning under so many layers. His breath hot and throat so dry, it hurts to swallow. Din’s fingers are stiff from how tight he’s gripping the speeder, muscles spasming to relax. Yet, he keeps going.

The suns mock him from above and his heart races again, as though warning him to stop. A soft groan escapes his lips, that ringing in his ear becoming louder and louder. There are black dots in Din’s vision but he pushes himself to the limit, the vehicle complaining like an old creature. He tries not to imagine Grogu in the back, giggling at how fast they are going, tiny hands in the air. It rips out a sound from his throat, inhuman, and he loses strength. The corner of Din’s eyes burn and he sees black, body going slack. The speeder crashes head down into the sand as he falls, rolling over and over with the momentum. He passes out before coming to a stop and he loses track of time, lying in the middle of the desert like dead meat. There’s no way to tell how long Din stays that way but there are flashes of events. Fragments he can’t quite understand. Voices. Swaying for a bit. More voices and footsteps. He sees Grogu behind his eyelids, consciousness slipping through his fingers again.

  
  


* * *

Din wakes up with a gasp, the vivid image of a Dark Trooper’s fist colliding with his helmet burning in his mind, and he blinks several times. His head is pulsing madly and there are voices in the room. Fuck. Din has no idea where he is or what is happening, but he's lying somewhere soft. A bed, it feels like. He's breathing fast, _too_ fast, and the familiar weight of armor is nowhere to be found. He groans, forcing himself to sit up, and everything spins. The helmet is incredibly claustrophobic right now, not giving him space to breathe, and his chest hurts. He's half aware of someone talking to him, the words barely registering. A nauseous wave hits him hard and Din gags, shoulders tensing up. He fumbles with the mechanism of his helmet, fingers trembling, and he falls from the bed without grace. The floor is warm, not helping the situation, and there's a commotion in the background. A male voice tells everyone to step away and it's all Din hears before hastily removing the helmet to throw up right there and then.

It’s mostly bile, stomach tensing as he chokes on his own spit. Tears fall from Din’s eyes and his knuckles turn white on the ground, coughing and vomiting the little he has in him. Damp hair sticking to the back of his neck and forehead. What a goddamn mess. Din grimaces, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and smearing the sleeve of his flight suit. Someone calls for him and he knits his eyebrows, finally looking around with heavy eyelids. He’s in a bedroom, stone ground pale much like the walls. Across the bed, he notices the front door ajar. A hint of silver peeking from it. Din’s frown deepens, half out of his mind when listening to the male voice.

_“Mando? You alright in there?”_

Cobb.

He’d recognize that voice anywhere. Din goes to answer but coughs, throat scratching. There’s a sigh and the marshal asks if can come inside. The brown-haired man stares at the helmet lying on the floor, the thought of putting it back on making him dizzy. Heart beating like a drum, he tells Cobb is alright. Eyes cast down while hearing footsteps behind him. The marshal seems to pause upon noticing the obvious, gaze burning on the back of Din’s skull.

“Are you sure?” Cobb murmurs, a politeness that doesn’t surprise the other. “Mando, I don’t t-”

“S’fine… You can… You can look,” Din interrupts him, gasping after each word.

A silent beat, then Cobb walks forward with a curse on his lips. He urges Din to get up, hoisting him by the armpits, and the mandalorian does his best to help. Everything rotates too fast to the right and he falls in bed with a groan. Cobb acts fast, talking about cleaning things up so Din doesn’t have to worry. The silver-haired man is looking everywhere but Din, which honestly brings a small relief. He’s not exactly at his best right now. Cobb mutters he has a heat stroke and that he’ll get some bacta spray for his head. Din shivers, melting in bed, and his eyes flutter at the ceiling. The exhaustion is too much, weighing down on his chest, and he loses consciousness one more time while Cobb is babbling in the background.

This keeps happening for who knows how long. Din wakes up only for a few minutes, enough to have a glass of water or throw up what he just drank. The bacta smell fills his nostrils and he has nightmares every time he closes his eyes. Sometimes there are different voices coming from outside the room, villagers talking to Cobb, probably wondering what is going on. The mandalorian wants to sink into that mattress and disappear, for all he cares. Instead, he has a fever and Cobb places a damp cloth against his forehead with pursed lips. Din shudders, cold and hot all over. It’s a goddamn mess and he’s truly impressed at how hard the marshal is trying not to look at him, wanting to be respectful. He doesn’t deserve that kindness. He really doesn’t.

He still feels Grogu’s touch on his cheek, like a brand.

By the time the three moons are high up in the sky, Din’s eyes are sandpaper-like but his headache is not splitting his skull in half anymore. He’s just utterly exhausted, body slowly recovering. His skin is dry and uncomfortable. Moving a single muscle makes him wince, so he lies there with a hazy mind. Cobb shows up only to change the cloth on his forehead and give him medicine as fast as he can, as if he shouldn’t be there. Din doesn’t argue and sleeps throughout the whole night. Dreaming of not jumping fast enough to protect Grogu from the blaster. Of those beady eyes shining at him. Of that stranger taking a part of him. A metal hand around his throat, strangling him. Din sweats, eyes moving fast behind eyelids, and buries his face into a soft pillow.

It’s only in the early morning that he manages to sit up, resting his back against the bed frame. Din sighs, running a hand over his disheveled hair, and there’s a knock on the door. Funny. He gathered as much that this is Cobb’s place, yet the man makes sure to announce his presence. Din can’t tell how grateful he is. The brown-haired man grunts as an answer and Cobb walks in, eyes glued to the floor. The mandalorian takes that moment to actually _see_ the other. In all this haziness, he barely glanced at anything. Cobb Vanth looks exactly how he remembers. Silver hair combed back and beard well trimmed. He’s wearing a dark green shirt with baggy sleeves and khaki pants. A black scarf this time around. That scar on the right side of his temple, as red as before. Din runs a hand through his damp hair, self-conscious of his state. It catches Cobb’s attention, shuffling on his feet, but he doesn’t open his mouth to speak. Din sighs, choosing to break the silence himself. Voice hoarse in the night.

“How did you find me?”

The marshal leans against the wall, crossing his arms while looking away. “Bunch of Tusken Raiders found you on the way here. Saw you over a bantha, not moving a damn muscle.” He shakes his head, remembering what Din doesn’t. “Scared the shit out of everyone...”

At that, he hums. Cobb asks how he feels and the mandalorian shrugs. “I’ll live.”

The marshal opens his mouth as if to say something but chooses not to, sighing instead. The only thing he mumbles is for Din to get some rest and that his armor is stored in a wooden chest, by the end of the bed. When the door closes, the brown-haired man buries his face in his hands but refuses to lie down again. The ache is tolerable and his body temperature is almost back to normal. Din can deal with that. He tells himself he had it worse. With that in mind, he lets his bare feet touch the ground and stands up with a groan. Knees popping like an old man. Din stretches with a deep breath, gathering his bearings, and it's a small victory when his vision doesn't swim. He drags himself towards the end of the bed, eyeing that crate. Fingers brushing over a carved spot on the lid, the initials C.V pulling a tiny smile on his lips.

Upon opening it, the beskar seems to beam in his presence. It's all there, clean and neatly in place. Din's hand passes by the helmet, searching for something else. For a second, his heart clenches, worried that he lost it in the desert. He purses his lips, fear getting the best of him, and he digs through everything with a scowl. Only when Din's fingers wrap around a round smooth object, that he exhales, bringing it closer to take a look. There. Grogu's favorite toy. A stupid little ball from the lever of his ship. Their home. Din twirls it in his hand, remembering the kid. Wonders what he's up to right now. Probably giving that Jedi a lot of trouble. He huffs and puts the ball into his pocket before closing the chest. Din stares at the bedroom door, faintly listening to Cobb around the house. He takes a deep breath, tells himself it's just him. That it will be alright.

So he goes to open the door, seeing a small hallway that leads straight to a kitchen, no walls separating from the living room. It's not a large place, but it looks well-lived. Portraits and knick-knacks spread throughout the house. Din walks silently until Cobb comes into view, back towards him, humming while washing dishes. There's a worn couch and a small table, clearly for someone that lives by themself. He can't help but picture the man drinking in the quiet, tweaking parts of his blaster with a tool box. Din breaks his train of thought and clears his throat, holding back a grin when Cobb curses after dropping a plate. The marshal turns before looking away, shoulders tensing up.

"Warn a man next time, will you?" he huffs a laugh.

Din apologizes but Cobb remains still, so he licks his lips before speaking.

"I told you can look."

"And I don't think you're right of your mind, partner. You are not well."

"I'm well enough," Din affirms. "It's fine."

Cobb takes a deep breath but seems finally convinced. It takes every strength from Din to stay in place when hazel eyes meet brown ones. The eye contact burns in a way he never experienced before. There's so much in the marshal's eyes, so much emotion happening all at once. Surprise, apprehension, followed by a fondness Din can't quite understand. He looks away after a few seconds but waits there for Cobb. Din feels it, the gaze like a sun shining on his skin. It's new, but not entirely uncomfortable. He curls his toes on the floor and clenches his hands, aware of his messy hair and the dark circles under his eyes. Cobb's shoulders fall and he sighs, as though he found what he was looking for in the mandalorian. Din expects questions he won't be able to answer fully but, instead, the silver-haired man nods once and straightens himself. A firm look in his face.

"Why don't you go to the refresher, get cleaned up? I'll fetch you some clothes, then you can eat something. You must be starving.”

Din agrees, knowing he must reek and his clothes are stained with dry vomit. Cobb makes a motion with his chin so the mandalorian can follow and they make their way back to the bedroom, the marshal opening a drawer to dig through some clothes. Cobb lets out an embarrassed huff, muttering that they might not fit him very well. Din accepts them, saying that's not a problem, and follows the man on the way out. The silver-haired man opens the refresher's door next to the bedroom, making a flourish bow with a smile while telling Din can use whatever he needs. The mandalorian holds back a snort but nods, walking in before closing the door. Cobb leaves, footsteps fading, and the brown-haired man sighs by himself. He leaves the clothes next to the sink before taking off his flight suit, avoiding to look at the mirror for now. Din relieves his bladder and takes his time when cleaning himself. Getting rid of all that grime and sweat after so many days.

When using Cobb’s products, his nostrils fill with a sweet scent. Zesty. It’s strong enough to mark a presence but it’s not overpowering. Din likes it and thinks it suits Cobb. He washes his hair, closing his eyes, and it feels good. Once he’s done, he dries himself and picks up the borrowed clothes. He puts on a dark blue shirt with long sleeves, the fabric soft against his skin. It’s a bit tight around his waist and shoulders, but it will do. The black pants are a tad long, so he has to roll them up. There are no complaints from Din. It’s comfortable enough and he makes a mental note to thank the man later. When glancing at the mirror, he purses his lips. The exhaustion is still there, in his eyes, but slightly better. He dares to trim his moustache, leaving his beard as it is, and runs a hand through his damp hair. Brown strands already beginning to curl. Overall, Din feels a bit more like himself. Fresh and clean. Human.

Din places that metal ball in his new pants pocket, keeping it close to him, and the smell of food is in the air when leaving the refresher. Walking barefoot into the kitchen, he sees Cobb filling a bowl with soup. The marshal looks at him, up and down, and his eyes turn into half-moons when smiling. There's a warmth on Din's face, hands clenching in his pockets, and Cobb tells him to sit down at the table. The brown-haired man does what he's told, clearing his throat, and that soup is set in front of him. Cobb explains it was made by some folks from town, wanting to help him as well. That they also helped to bring Din here, to remove his armor. The marshal sits across from him, smiling more when telling he had to kick everyone out when Din was taking the helmet off. The brown-haired man hums, remembering some of it, and he eats the warm food. His stomach growls, begging for it, but goes slow so he won't get sick. Silence falls between them for a long minute before Cobb decides to break it.

"Who's Grogu?"

Din freezes, spoon halfway towards his mouth, and he holds his breath. He doesn't know what to say.

"You kept saying that name," Cobb continues, voice low and gentle. A frown on his face. The mandalorian puts down the spoon, shaking his head slightly. "Mando… What the hell happened?"

For a second, Din risks a glance at the man and the words remain stuck in his throat. A pang in his heart makes him grimace and Cobb's gaze softens.

"Just answer me this, then… Are you safe?"

The _We_ is unspoken but Din knows he's asking if his town is in any danger. If they need to be prepared. The brown-haired man thinks of the Dark Saber, buried in that wooden chest a few steps away. Bo-Katan left him with a promise. A weight that he cannot remove from his shoulders yet. But there is no chasing happening so soon, that he knows. So he nods, reassuring the man, and Cobb visibly relaxes. With that, he’s offered to stay as long as he needs. Everyone in town is still grateful for what he did with the krayt dragon, it appears, and it’s another kindness he wasn’t entirely expecting. To be accepted with such open arms.

"Thank you," Din's raspy voice is odd even to his ears and yet, he's met with another warm smile.

"It’s no problem, my friend."

* * *

Not much after that, Din is left alone. Cobb has places to be, people to talk to. The man did leave with a wariness in his eyes, glancing at the mandalorian as if he was going to disappear. Din can't blame him. It's what he does best, after all. Still, he stays for now to heal. Wandering around Cobb's home, seeing so many trinkets and imagining the stories behind them. Despite the off-white walls, the house feels warm and welcome. There are colorful rugs and wooden shelves mixed with stone. Windchimes on the porch that sing a pleasant tone. Even the old smell of caf in the kitchen, a half empty mug left in a counter, makes the place look alive. Din doesn’t pry too much, however, knowing Cobb respects his privacy just as much as him. He quickly finds himself with nothing to do, opting to sit on the brown couch instead. Resting his back against soft cushions. Din remains with a persisting headache and sore muscles from that last battle, so he closes his eyes with a deep breath. Waits for time to pass.

Of course, he falls asleep.

The dreams are unforgiven, but Din sleeps through it all. Exhaustion speaking louder this time around. He slowly leans to the side until he’s completely lying on the couch, mouth ajar. Hours pass and it's only when the last sun is setting that he stirs himself awake, hearing the front door opening. There's shuffling, boots being kicked off, and Cobb's voice is low in the room. A mumble to himself, complaining about sand in his socks. Din keeps his eyes closed, even more when the marshal seems to pause his actions. The mandalorian knows he's being watched from a few feet away, that gaze like sunlight itself casting on the back of his neck. The corners of his lips tug into a smile, barely there.

"That's rude," Din murmurs.

Cobb makes a startled sound before clearing his throat, most certainly embarrassed for being caught staring. Din cleans his eyes and sits up, turning to see the man. Cobb's face is flushed from being under the suns too long, silver hair a bit messy as if he's been running his hands through it too many times. He shrugs once, shaking his head.

"To be fair, I didn't expect you to stay." The marshal walks past him and Din knits his eyebrows, not knowing if he should be offended by the thought or relieved if it was really the case. Cobb strips off his black scarf and belt, blaster over the dining table. "You ate somethin'?"

Din tightens his lips and Cobb snorts, making a sign for him to come there. The brown-haired man stands up, walking into the kitchen with a questioning look, and the man gives him a knife. Din frowns but soon Cobb is giving him instructions, picking up a couple of vegetables from the fridge and telling him to chop them. There haven't been many opportunities for Din to learn how to cook, being a mandalorian and all. Especially after being taken away from his parents so young, he never had to experience that in the first hand. Having Grogu to take care of had pushed him to try harder, but they were running away constantly and fighting so much. All he could offer to the little one was rehydrated meals or stuff he got from cantinas. So yes. Even though is just chopping vegetables, it’s definitely something new to him. It must show, his expression too raw without the helmet, because Cobb smiles and explains each step with care. Din listens, genuinely curious and glad to be doing something.

They work well in the kitchen, not taking too long to find their rhythm, and Cobb talks throughout the whole thing. He doesn’t seem to mind is mostly a monologue, Din just humming every now and then. They prepare a steak and quickly fry the vegetables in the same pan to add more taste. It smells delicious and the mandalorian’s stomach growls by the end of it. The silver-haired man chuckles, pointing where the plates are, so Din sets the table. A bottle of spotchka is set down as well, with two glasses, and Cobb sighs when they finally sit down to eat. The brown-haired man digs in, thankful to have a solid meal to satiate his hunger. It’s all very good and Cobb seems happy, relaxed to be at his home. He pours them a drink and Din accepts it, watching the other down his shot in one go. The marshal makes a face but seems satisfied with it. It’s quiet now and there are stolen glances from across the table. Cobb doing it from behind his cup and Din, after taking another bite from the food. It’s only on his third drink that the silence is broken.

“I do want it, you know?” Cobb whispers. “For you to stay.”

It takes Din a moment to think, staring down at his plate.

There is something undeniable in that man. Din felt that the first time they met. It’s a warmth that radiates from him that is almost overwhelming. There is a honesty, bravery and kindness in Cobb that is hard to find nowadays. Din may not know him well enough, but he can tell the man suffered in his life before coming there. That it is the center of his strength, what keeps him going. The reason he fights for his people. Despite tragedy, Cobb continues to smile so bright that it is almost suffocating. Din admires him. The brown-haired man has no idea where to start stitching his pieces back together. He’s scattered all over the place. Cobb is here, though. Wanting to help and asking for nothing in return. Din swallows, nodding, and he looks up. Those sharp eyes meet his and he holds on for as long as he can. He looks straight into the sun, that leaks through his ugly wounds, desperate to heal. To feel.

“Okay,” Din finally murmurs. “I’ll stay.”

Part of him knows that, from the moment he woke up there, he knew that already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting a new chapter every Sunday, around 3pm PT time (8pm Brazilian time)! I'd love to hear what you think! Thank you so much for reading! See you next week!
> 
> [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/49IjFuFLhM3H3Chp3oxLf8?si=mLJ9pO2XR7mSeKfvhHqGEA)  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Mentions of panic attacks and violence.

A few days pass and they slowly find a routine.

Cobb has to leave almost every day, so Din passes the time cooking. It's strange. To think the same hands that have murdered countless people can make something good. After that first dinner, Din felt a spark of interest in the action of making meals. He's learning simple things, a breakfast here and a lunch there, but it's going well. The kitchen hasn't been set on fire yet and Cobb is happy to see him active, not just becoming one with the couch where he sleeps. Din never thought he would find cooking relaxing, but there it is. It keeps his mind busy. Away from that darkness and weight in his chest. It's also good to have the other coming back at the end of the day and show what he did. He gets to thank Cobb without words, making sure the man eats too.

Din hasn't talked about what happened yet and Cobb doesn't push it. The mandalorian is not ready yet, so he's grateful for the personal space. He hasn't left the house as well, but the marshal makes sure to tell him everything that's happening. That there's a market now and new houses are being built, so things have been agitated. That everyone asks about the mandalorian, sending food and pieces of clothing. Din's currently wearing a loose sweater given by the eldest in town, that once belonged to her son. It's too big for his size, but comfortable on his skin. Dark red and orange patterns. He has to roll the sleeves a bit to cook and he's still barefoot, toes curling on the kitchen floor. Cobb has offered a pair of boots and socks but Din likes feeling the sandstone underneath his feet. It’s the little things he hasn’t been paying attention to before.

Right now, the house smells of fresh bread and he uses mittens to set it to cool by the counter, which must be a ridiculous sight. He tries not to think what he would look like in the eyes of other mandalorians. The thought comes as quickly as it goes, brushing it off when Cobb arrives from another day. The quietness in the house vanishes with the man’s presence, that aura of his practically buzzing. Din takes off the mittens, greeting him with a nod, and Cobb is impressed with how quickly he’s learning. A warmth kisses Din’s cheeks, not used to praise, but remains quiet. He watches the marshal remove the famous red scarf this time, leaning against the counter, and something catches his eyes. When Cobb turns around to grab a drink in the fridge, Din notices scars there for the first time. A light one around his neck, scratched marks from the past, and the beginning of another one down his shoulder blades. Hidden by the black shirt. The brown-haired man narrows his eyes, tugging on his big sleeves like a kid. Cobb is oblivious, talking about a deal that was made today and how content he is, so Din doesn’t bring it up.

He just wonders about it at night, lying on the couch, after their bellies are full and they’ve said their goodnight. Din dreams of it, the fool. Quick flashes of exposed skin and white scars. A smile in the middle of chaos, behind Dark Troopers punching his face. A brush on his cheek, a gaze that burns to his very core. The dreams leave Din with fatigue, chest heavy and jaw clenched. He wakes up sore but makes no sound, sitting up to run a hand through his hair. He closes his eyes, holding back a sigh, and it takes a moment for him not to shatter. A tug on his heart that hurts more than it should. He doesn’t remember feeling this way since he was a little kid. It’s excruciating and he wonders how long this will last. Light footsteps brings him back, looking up with hazy eyes to see Cobb leaning against the doorframe of his room, arms crossed. Din doesn’t know how long he’s been watching, he hasn’t noticed. The silver-haired man lifts his chin, his words leaving no space for rejection. A question without need for an answer.

“Why don’t we go out today?”

So they do.

Din changes to his now clean flight suit, putting on his combat boots after days. Gloves back on, tugging at the end of them so there’s no skin exposed. When opening that wooden chest in Cobb’s room, he grabs that familiar helmet in his hands. The brown-haired man stares at it with a sigh stuck in his throat. He remains a mandalorian, that he knows. The beliefs he had are just not what he thought they were. It’s still something difficult to digest but, when he removed the helmet in that ship, it was for Grogu. It was his choice. Not a resignation. Din is trying to understand the differences, to balance the order of things. That he can be... That he can be. With that thought in mind, Din puts the helmet on and adjusts it properly. The visor comes to life, the faded colors slightly off from reality, and he finally leaves the room. Cobb is waiting for him by the front door, wearing a poncho. Scarf around his neck. They exchange a look and the man smiles when Din stands in front of him.

“There you are,” he whispers, eyes turning into half-moons, and Din’s speechless. "Here, you will need this."

When Cobb extends his hand, the mandalorian looks down at it to see that black scarf from before. Din hesitates before reaching for it, the tip of his gloved fingers brushing with Cobb's for a split second. He clenches his jaw, wrapping the fabric around his neck, and the marshal opens the door. It takes only a couple of steps for the heat to embrace them and Din's visor adjusts to the brightness. There are muffled sounds of conversations from people passing by and the groan of banthas in the back. Din follows Cobb without a word, sand underneath their boots, and he looks at the once small town. The market is easy to spot, up ahead and near the bar. Tents all over an alley to pass by a colorful ceiling, salesmen yelling at customers and organizing their products. Children run by him mid-laughter, raising dust, and there's a construction at the end of the street. Men gathering materials and sweating under the suns. Cobb really wasn't kidding when he said the town was growing. There's definitely more people living here and the trade market must be doing them good.

They pause whenever Cobb talks to his people, waving at familiar faces. Some come towards Din to thank him for killing the krayt dragon or asking about his health. It overwhelms him a bit, to be the center of attention so fast. The loud noises don't help as well, heart racing and hands clenching. Before a circle fully forms around him in the middle of a street, Cobb interviens, touching Din's shoulder, and pulls him out of there with an excuse in his lips. The contact is brief but enough to make the brown-haired man tense. Cobb seems to notice and sends him an apologetic smile, keeping his distance. By the time they reach the market, there's a thin layer of sweat underneath Din's clothes and he's regretting leaving a little bit. The silver-haired man lights up when finding what he wants, though, leading them to one of the tents. There's a variety of what appears to be fruits in front of them and Cobb takes a red one, showing to him.

"You have to try this! These are apples!" he exclaims, grinning ear to ear. "Kriffing _apples_ , Mando! Can't you believe we get shit like that now? I never thought I was gonna see one of these in my life."

Din takes the apple from him, admiring the bright color, and Cobb asks for a couple of them for later. When he goes to pay, the salesman refuses it with a wave, saying something about the marshal doing enough already. Cobb insists, knowing it would only be fair, and he wishes the man's family a good day. Again, that effortless kindness and genuine interest in people's lives. Din's helmet hides a smile of his own. They walk some more while Cobb proudly shows all that is new to him, including a proper school almost done being built. It reminds Din of that time he had to leave Grogu in one, while in Nevarro. How anxious he felt to leave the kid alone with others, worried if they were gonna be alright. He wonders if that's how the parents will feel in Mos Pelgo. Or if Grogu would like it here. Would he play with the children in the sand? Share toys and chase little scurriers in the street?

It’s a woman approaching them that interrupts his thoughts. Cobb calls her Evera and she nods at them. She’s wearing a worn sawl, clothes blending well with the desert, and her black hair is tied up in a messy bun. Eyes squinting from the suns. She seems a bit older than them, marks on her face giving it away. Evera complains about one of the old vaporators busting again and causing issues to her home, humidifier unable to work properly because of it. Cobb scratches the back of his head with a sigh, probably thinking how he’ll squeeze that in his schedule today. Without thinking twice, Din offers to take a look. The silver-haired man purses his lips, asking if he’s sure of it. He knows Cobb was planning on checking the town’s storage today, so he nods. Evera thanks him and he exchanges a last look with the marshal before following the woman. He doesn’t have to look back to know Cobb is watching.

Evera’s house is further ahead, away from the market sounds, and she doesn’t fill in the silence. She doesn’t seem to mind, nor does Din. The vaporator stands tall next to her place, visibly rusty. Din is given a tool box to work so he goes down on his knees, opening the device's panel and scanning with the HUD. Evera sits down by a crate box near him, and she watches him work. Din has a slight impression he's being judged.

"You are staying." It's a statement, not a question, so he says nothing in return. Din continues to grab wires and make connections, but her hoarse voice reaches his ears again. A warm breeze swaying her shawl. "That will be good for you."

Din stops, turning his head to face her. Frowning underneath the helmet and wondering if she knows what she's talking about. Evera smiles like she knows something he doesn't. Her age carrying more wisdom than his, unable to follow her point. When another breeze comes, she tucks strands of black and grey hair behind her ear, and the motion reveals a scar on her wrist. There's another one around her neck, the shawl hiding most of it, and it's just like Cobb's. She notices his gaze but her smile doesn't falter. The mandalorian turns back to the panel, pursing his lips, and it takes a couple more tries before the vaporator's humming returns. Evera lets out a pleasant sound and he puts all the tools back, getting up while patting dust off his pants.

"Before you go," She walks up to him, arms crossed. "Can I ask something of you?"

Din narrows his eyes, but nods.

"Take care of him, will you? He's stubborn and works too hard." Walking back to her porch, she just waves at him, talking over her shoulder. "Something tells me you're not so different."

Those words ring into his ears and he’s as confused as he was before.

  
  


* * *

It’s only when Din comes back to the marshal’s house that a long sigh leaves his lips.

He removes the helmet, breathing in, and ruffles his hair. Cobb is still out, so the place is quiet. Din takes the opportunity to clean himself in the refresher, stripping off his clothes and washing his face. The heat from that morning fades, the temperature now cooler than before. He puts on a grey shirt and soft black pants, feeling more comfortable there. Part of him wishes he could help Cobb, the woman’s words no doubt true about him working too much, but Din is mentally exhausted. A fatigue hasn’t left him since passing out in the desert and something tells him that no amount of sleep will make it go away. So he reckons he wouldn’t make a difference next to the man at the moment. Din’s brain is pure mush. His knees pop when sitting down on the couch and he groans, resting there. This is unlike him, he knows. This laziness. The flame that keeps him going is feeble and he’s afraid a gentle breeze will put it out.

As much as he likes cooking lately, the thought of it makes him nauseous right now. So he stays in place, ignoring his needs. Cobb meant well when dragging him out of the house, but it also made Din see how the world keeps spinning. It goes on, even though there’s a hole in his chest and his mind is spiralling with worry over a kid so far away. A fool, afraid to be forgotten. Thoughts can be such a dangerous thing, like cobwebs that tangle with time. He should know better, he was trained in many ways, been through countless hardships. Still, his heart hurts. Din drags a hand over his face, tiring of himself, so he lies down and glares at the ceiling for a long time. The humidifier unit hums in the quiet and the faint wind from outside lulles him to sleep. The mandalorian closes his eyes and time slips through his fingers like the sands of Tatooine.

Glass shattering. A door opening. Pitch black hands around his throat. Inhuman, no heartbeat. He tries to breathe, gasping, and his eyes roll back. Feet hanging in the air. Hit after hit. His head bashing against the wall over and over, the impact vibrations deafening him. Din thrashes himself, doing everything he can do to fight, but this time his hold on the spear is weak. It falls onto the floor with a clank and the Dark Trooper wraps the free hand around his helmet, the strength so intense that it crushes beskar. Din’s head pounds, heartbeat going a mile a minute, and his stomach folds. Metal breaks his visor and he lets out a painful gurgle, body going slack. Despite it all, he still feels everything. He’s aware of beskar digging into his skin, of red eyes staring deep into his fading soul. It hurts and it hurts and it hurts and-

A touch on Din's shoulder jolts him awake and his body acts fast, twisting the hand off him with a strong grip. There's a groan and his own arm comes up to grab someone's neck, glaring with a foggy mind. Din grits his teeth, heart beating like a drum, but a glimpse of hazel makes him stop. Warm fingers wrap around his wrist and his hold loosens on the man's throat. Din mumbles Cobb's name, throat hoarse, and the corners of his eyes burn with unshed tears. Fuck. He pushes the marshal off him, getting up with weak knees and he's breathing too fast. Din stands in the middle of the living room, not knowing where to go. Confused, dream still too vivid, and he can't bear to look at Cobb.

"Hey, hey!" the silver-haired man speaks, stepping closer, but Din stumbles back. "It's okay, it's fine. It was my fault, okay?"

The mandalorian wants to apologize for attacking him but if he opens his mouth right now, only screams will come out. He wouldn't be able to stop. Din buries his fingers into his hair, grimacing, and Cobb calls him gently. Another step towards him. Din grunts.

"Mando, you need to breathe... You were having a nightmare.” The shame of not being the same mandalorian Cobb believes him to be hits him strongly, so he just lets this happen. Whatever it is. The marshal comes closer, arms hanging in the air, and he whispers. “I’m gonna try something, alright? You just gotta trust me.”

Din pants, looking down at the floor. Curling his toes and hoping this pain in his chest ends. It's dull and heavy, never once experienced that. Cobb stands in front of him, careful as if not to scare him away. Din wants to laugh but an ugly sound comes out instead, face scrunching up. The man murmurs his every move and the mandalorian sucks in air when an arm reaches around his waist. Cobb wraps the other over his shoulder, pulling him into a hug, and Din goes stiff. The silver-haired man tells him to breathe, that he's safe. The warmth between them is overwhelming, the contact burns underneath his clothes, but he doesn't move away. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of Cobb’s neck, closing his eyes hard enough to see stars. His trembling hands grab the back of the marshal’s shirt, so tight that his nails dig through the fabric. Cobb just holds him impossibly closer, constantly whispering that is alright. Din’s ashamed, breathing into that tan skin.

The smell of sun.

They hold onto each other and the brown-haired man fights the anxiety within him. He hiccups, feeling stupid for the tears streaming down his face. When exhaling deeply, his knees buckle, so Cobb slowly makes them sit down on the floor. Din lets himself be moved like a rag doll, their limbs tangling there. He listens to the man’s heartbeat and a caress on his hair rips out a cry from him. That’s the first time someone touched his hair, ever since losing his parents. He’s sure of it. Cobb’s fingers lightly mess with his curls and he sighs, calming down. They stay like that for what feels like forever, silence falling like a blanket once again. He’s barely holding onto the other now, just accepting this. Cobb’s cheek brushes against Din’s temple and he shivers. When the silver-haired man speaks, he feels more than hears it.

“What happened to you, Mando…?”

It’s asked so softly, it makes his heart clench. The words are drowned with concern and something tells Din that Cobb would destroy whoever wounded him, if it was the case. Din would’ve believed him. That’s what makes him answer. He licks his dried lips and the story reaches their ears, mouth moving nonstop. Din talks and talks and talks. He tells it all. Cobb’s quiet, listening to everything that happened ever since they met. The mandalorian lets the words fall off his tongue, half-lidded eyes staring at nothing. He talks about Grogu and how strong their bond is. Was. He’s not sure. How that battle played out and how terrifying it felt. Din talks about losing his ship and having nothing on him anymore. About the promise hidden in that wooden chest a few feet away from them. By the end of it all, Din’s mumbling rather than talking, and somehow that makes Cobb huff a smile. The marshal says they are tired and Din raises his eyebrows, cracking a grin. Yes, they are very tired. Cobb bumps his nose against the mandalorian’s cheek.

“I’m sorry about the kid,” he breathes. “I really am.”

“I am too.”

It’s Din that pulls away first, turning away to wipe his eyes, and he clears his throat. He mutters something about washing his face, getting up before the man says something back. He walks towards the refresher, hyperfocused of every move. Every brush of fabric against his body. When Din opens the tap, door closed behind him, the running water is loud to his ears. He cleans his face, splashing water on the back of his neck, and he takes deep breaths. Din thought he’d never feel cold in Tatooine and yet, his hands lack the warmth Cobb gave him. The absence of touch, too alarming afterwards. He shakes his head and puts himself together. The nightmare has faded, the damage it brought heals with time. Din leaves the refresher, having no choice but to face Cobb, but that spot in the living room is empty. There’s shuffling in the kitchen instead, so he follows. The marshal notices him, throwing a quick smile.

“Here.” Cobb gives him a bowl with that red fruit chopped into pieces. “I thought you’d be hungry.”

“Thanks,” Din mutters. There’s an uneasiness in the air, both lost in a small kitchen after pouring his heart out. He watches the man shuffle on his feet, eyes glancing everywhere but the mandalorian. Din purses his lips, wondering if he ruined whatever they had. If he should go. His hold tightens around the bowl, frowning, and he opens his mouth to say just that. “Maybe I should-”

“The bed,” Cobb blurts out, interrupting Din, and their eyes lock for a moment. The man stutters, making a comical wave with his arm. “I mean, you shouldn’t be sleeping on that couch in the first place, that old thing. You’re my guest. Now, I know I ain’t got much and my back won’t appreciate it if we switch places, so… We should share. The bed, I mean. Might help you sleep better.”

Din blinks, so strange to see the marshal flustered, but he gets it. Cobb is asking him not to leave with other words. That he’s not frightened about what happened. He eats a piece of apple, the sweetness of it making Din sigh. Cobb waits, albeit nervous. The brown-haired man swallows, holding back a grateful smile.

“Okay,” he says. “We will share.”

Cobb nods, running a hand through his silver hair, a curl falling back to his forehead. Din watches him go, wanting to tidy up his room, and that’s when the mandalorian catches the last glimpses of the suns. Faint sunlights coming from the back door, windchimes lightly singing. Din finishes eating before walking up to the bedroom, knocking on the door frame to announce his presence. Cobb has a ball of clothes gathered in his arms, muttering he didn’t have much time to clean them, so it’s all a mess. He mentions going to Mos Eisley in the morning, that they need to get Din more clothes or he’ll keep loosening the man’s shirts. The brown-haired man remembers Peli and the way he left, without any explanation. He owes her that, so he will go too. Cobb raises his eyebrows, surprised, and fetches a couple of pillows to place in the bed. It’s big enough for the both of them, in the middle of the room, but Din knows he won’t be able to sleep so soon. Cobb, on the other hand, looks exhausted.

“You should go ahead and get some rest,” Din speaks. “You’ve done enough.”

“Mando-”

“I will come later. I promise.”

They exchange a look and the marshal sighs with a short nod, shoulders down. Din excuses himself and heads towards that porch, watching the sands of Tatooine. No person in sight to see his face. He leans against the wall there and tends to his invisible wounds. It’s strange. Talking made everything even more real, a past he can only visit in memory. Again, he wouldn’t change his choices. Din fulfilled his mission and Grogu is safe. It’s just that, after a whole life of hunting and running, a weariness creeps in. He’s been pushing it back for years, leaving for later, and now it’s all collapsing. Din puts his hand in his pocket, fidgeting with that metal ball that never leaves his side, and he ponders. Cobb has been nothing but patient and kind. He’s taking so much of that man and there is not a single hesitation in those hazel eyes. Din can still feel the ghostly touch of their embrace. The way his body wanted to melt right there and then. Din never stayed in a place long enough to see what comes with a friendly relationship. He wonders if they all feel like this.

When the moons rise, stars twinkling in the dark sky, Din returns with a clearer mind. In the bedroom, Cobb is fast asleep, on the left side of the mattress, lying on his stomach. Shirtless. Din quietly makes his way to the right and, when sitting there, he can’t help but take a look at the man. Even in the dim room, he sees more scars on his back. Long lines, starting from his shoulders and down to his waist. Cuts and old burns marring his tan skin. Above all, a star carved below the back of his neck is undeniable. The mark of a slave. It’s slightly crooked, the flaws marked forever there. It was meant to hurt deeply. Din clenches his jaw, looking away with a scowl, and he curses whoever did this to Cobb. He had his suspicions, especially after talking to Evera and seeing her own wounds. Yet, Din hoped it wasn’t true. Hoped that Cobb Vanth hasn't gone through such a thing. A cruelty not even the mandalorian knows what is like.

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep, but when he does, he dreams of sun-kissed skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments!! See you next Sunday :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a little earlier bc Imma play Dead by Daylight 👀

Din wakes up warm.

There is no sudden fear, that urge to get up immediately so he won't waste any time. Instead, he blinks slowly and enjoys the soft pillow under his head. Din can't remember the last time he slept in a proper bed. The dim light in the room is enough to know that only Tatoo I has risen, the world still quiet. He's lying on his side, a leg almost hanging off the bed, and there's a weight on his waist. Din tenses just slightly, feeling Cobb pressed against his back. Arm over his stomach. The man's snoring softly, unaware, and his nose brushes on Din's shoulder blades. He doesn't want to wake up the marshal so he lies still, taking a deep breath. Cobb's fingers twitch, brushing against his skin, and he draws in air. The man mumbles, clearly dreaming. However, the words that fall from his lips are not Basic. They are Huttese. Din knits his eyebrows, trying to listen, but they're slurred and half spoken. Lost in his sleep.

It's practically a miracle when Cobb grunts under his breath and moves away, arm slipping from Din’s waist. The mandalorian exhales, relaxing before taking a look over his shoulder. Cobb’s lying on his back now, face turned the other way. Chest moving up and down with his breathing. Din takes that opportunity to sit up, mattress dipping slightly at the movement, and he runs a hand through his hair. It’s getting longer than usual, the ends of it tickling the back of his neck. He sighs, leaving without making a sound. and goes to the refresher to empty his bladder. Fully waking up when washing his face. It’s a strange feeling to know his way around that small house. Din knows where Cobb keeps his mugs and the powdered beans to make a fresh pot of caf. Where the bread is and how the man likes his eggs. A mundanity he’s only just now learning to have.

By the time he’s done preparing their breakfast, Cobb finally emerges from the bedroom. Din stares at him from the kitchen counter, huffing at the man’s hair sticking out from different angles. Eyes squinting, groggy from sleep. Cobb walks up to him with a sheepish grin, scratching his stomach from under his shirt, and he’s dragging his feet on the floor. He looks incredibly soft. Not like a marshal of a town, a man with a blaster ready to defend what little he has. Just… Just Cobb. Charming. Din bites back a smile of his own, looking away, and the other grabs a mug of caf while thanking him for that. The mandalorian nods, sitting down at the table with his plate, and Cobb follows. He sips from the warm drink and mumbles how unfair it is that Din makes a better caf than him already. The brown-haired man snorts, replying that it takes having a skill. Cobb throws a piece of bread on his face, offended, but there’s chuckling falling from their lips.

Afterwards, Cobb tells them to get ready. It's a long trip to Mos Eisley so they can't waste too much daylight. Din goes to that crate in the bedroom and takes out his armor for the first time since he got there. It's been clean when he was sick, that he can tell. Probably the marshal did it himself. The thought of it making Din’s belly twist, a feeling he can’t quite describe. Putting on the beskar armor is like a second nature to Din, clasping his chest plate and vambraces back without any trouble. Despite being familiar, it definitely weights differently. When there’s only that helmet in his hands, Cobb is standing by the doorframe, watching. The man’s wearing that red shirt he remembers, with a long coat over it. Dark brown, worn out. Scarf back in place. Din puts on the helmet, tucks the metal ball in his utility belt. A blaster on his right side. Jetpack and spear left behind. The silver-haired man continues to stare, so he tilts his head in question, tugging on his gloves.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” Cobb shrugs. “I think I’m getting used to seeing you without… all of this.”

Before Din can think of an answer, the man lifts his chin when telling them to go. The second time he leaves the house, he’s already expecting the heat. The second sun is just starting to rise, the brightness of the day yet to come. The people of Mos Pelgo have woken up by now, the town gaining more life as time passes. Cobb directs them to his speeder, parked next to his house, and Din purses his lips. The one he had was destroyed when he crashed days ago and it doesn’t seem like a second one will magically appear. Cobb hops onto the speeder, that red pod-racer turbine bursting to life, and the brown-haired man holds back a sigh before joining in. Din sits behind Cobb, keeps a hand on the back of the vehicle and the other on the man’s shoulder. The marshal warns him to hold on tight, accelerating with a vicious smile on his voice, and Din groans when they drive away.

The dunes of Tatooine are like pure gold under the morning light, the wind howling in their ears, and the speeder’s engine growls between their silence. It’s not heavy or unsettling, but they both seem to be lost in their thoughts. Din’s emotions are always so raw, right there on his face. No experience at how to control it without a mask. Cobb, however, is a mystery sometimes. There are so many things Din doesn’t know and he finds himself curious about it. Wondering what’s on the man’s mind. What’s behind that smile. The mandalorian ponders throughout the drive, adjusting every now and then at the back seat, and it’s after long hours that Mos Eisley comes into view. The two suns high up in the sky by the time they park close to it. Cobb grumbles about sore muscles, both hopping off the speeder, and the biggest city of Tatooine is loud in their ears.

They walk into the busy street, passing by humans and creatures of different kinds, and it doesn’t take long for Cobb to drag him into a small shop. The salesman greets them, eyeing the mandalorian with concern, but the marshal says something in Huttese. Din’s taken back by it. The man behind a counter purses his lips before nodding, saying something back in the same language. Cobb clearly has been there many times. They exchange a look and the silver-haired man smiles tight when pointing at a couple of outfits on a shelf, dismissing what happened. Din focuses on getting new shirts, not quite caring how they look. Cobb is more invested than him, refusing to let everything be black. He ends up with a couple of blue and yellow thin sweaters, all with long sleeves and comfortable to him. It’s only when Din’s hands are carrying a bundle of fabrics that he remembers about his credits. When telling Cobb just that, the man shakes his head. That he wanted to pay for this in the first place. Din flushes under the helmet and promises to retribute with work back at Mos Pelgo, helping whenever is needed. Cobb just grins and adds a dark orange scarf onto their pile.

It’s only when they’re walking out of the shop, two bags filled with clothes in hands, that Din brings it up.

“You speak Huttese.”

“Enough to get by.” Cobb hums, their shoulders brushing every now and then. “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

The image of long scars comes to Din’s mind and he holds back a sigh. Instead, he gives the man an option to back out. “Mm… I know that you snore.”

Cobb lets out a shameless laugh in the middle of the street and he bumps Din’s shoulder as they walk aimlessly. Only stopping every now and then to stare at trinkets being sold and what not. When their stomachs growl, they find the cantina for a break and the furthest booth available. Hidden enough that Din can eat without being seen. There’s small talk between their comfortable silence and the brown-haired man finds himself gazing at Cobb whenever the other is not looking. Especially when Din’s done with his food, he can continue doing so under the helmet. He doesn’t know when it started but he finds himself longing to slither between the cracks of Cobb’s mask. His heart, even. An irrational ache to know someone so deeply for the first time. Din tightens his gloved hands under the table, leather making a sound, and it’s a part of him unexplored. Left in the dark for so many years. Cobb takes a last sip from his drink, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

“Now who is the one being rude, staring at me like that? Am I that handsome?”

Din straightens himself, looking away with a huff. “I take it you don’t have a mirror, then.”

Cobb barks another laugh and Din tries not to stare again when the man’s eyes curl into half-moons, shoulders shaking lightly. Tries not to think  _ I made him smile _ but failing anyway.

After leaving the cantina, Cobb is ready to go back to Mos Pelgo but Din isn’t. He explains there’s something he needs to take care of, a friend he needs to visit. The marshal wants him to lead the way, then. Din takes a deep breath as they go, preparing the things he has to say, and he also talks to Cobb about Peli. How she has a strong personality and that he shouldn’t worry if she yells at him. She’s a good person. Cobb’s amused by his stories and it takes a good hour to reach Hangar 3-5. Once more, they hear a woman’s voice when walking in, complaining with her droids. There’s a ship in the station being worked on, but Peli notices them sooner this time despite the loud equipments. She recognizes Din right away, her eyes widening.

“Oy!” she shouts, making her way towards them. “You owe me a speeder, Mando!”

Cobb leans in, whispering. “She’s angry  _ and _ tiny.”

“Don’t tell her that.”

Peli squints her eyes at them, pointing at Cobb with her chin and asking who that is. Din introduces them but says he wants a moment alone with her. The marshal salutes them, taking a look around the hangar to give them privacy, and Din holds back a sigh. She’s looking at him expectantly, crossing her arms. It should be easier telling the same story again, but it isn’t. If anything, it takes longer to come out of his lips. Din’s just thankful that he’s not breaking down on the ground again. Peli listens, her face falling, and the mandalorian assures her that the kid is safe and sound. His throat tightens, that ache in his heart returning, and he seeks for Cobb’s gaze across the hangar for support. The marshal seems to sense it every time, turning around to give Din an encouraging smile. Peli does give him a smack on the arm for leaving right away and almost getting himself killed in the middle of the desert, though. He deserves that one.

It’s a relief to end the story and she sighs, mumbling about missing the little womp rat. Din makes a sign for Cobb to return and Peli sends them a look, humming to herself. She talks to the marshal, wanting to know more about him, and Din snorts at the other’s face. It’s all amusing until Cobb actually clicks with Peli and they start talking about, well,  _ him. _ The marshal exposes his cooking adventures and Peli laughs, not believing, but the marshal insists on it. They all sit down at an improvised table in the hangar’s corner, droids working in the background, and Din is content to just watch them discuss. Cobb even plays a game with her later on, betting their chances with cards in their hands. The brown-haired man can easily picture Grogu watching them as well, on his lap. Babbling when trying to steal a card to put it in his mouth. Din’s wistful smile is kept to himself, fidgeting with that piece of metal while they’re distracted.

When Cobb loses a second time and a silence falls, Peli asks if Din will need a ship. It catches him off guard, not having thought about it, but it makes sense. He does need to be ready if something happens. When it happens. The thought settles in bitterly and the look Cobb gives him is unreadable. Din can’t offer much but Peli says she’ll do it for the kid. She makes sure to warn him she’s not going soft on him, though. The mandalorian appreciates the gesture nonetheless, thanking her. It will take a long time for her to set up a ship for him but Din has no rush to leave at the moment. Doesn’t even know if he will. Only time will tell. It’s in that note that they get ready to leave and Peli pulls the marshal to the side for a second to whisper words Din can’t hear. He tilts his head but Cobb smiles at her, so he leaves it for now. They say their goodbyes and make their way back to the speeder, bags of clothes in hands. They hop onto the vehicle and drive away without a word.

Night has fallen when they arrive in Mos Pelgo, the first moon up in the starry sky and the second one just now beginning to merge. People have retreated to their homes, the sand streets quiet with no children playing in sight. After a long day, Din is looking forward to cleaning himself and getting rid of this armor. They make their way into Cobb’s place, door shutting behind them. The silver-haired man takes off his scarf and boots, socks left in them, and Din removes the helmet. Walking into the bedroom, the mandalorian starts stripping off his gadgets and belt, putting it back in that chest. He sits on a chair, messing with his knee pads and unclasping the beskar. Cobb shows up when Din is on the vambraces, gloves long gone, and their eyes meet. The man’s coat has been left behind. Red shirt has been unbuttoned further, the beginning of his collarbones exposed. When Cobb asks if Din needs help, his fingers stop halfway through the last vambrace. The exhaustion of the day must weaken him, for he nods albeit stiff.

Settling aside the arm piece with care, he stands up. The marshal murmurs for him to turn around, so he does just that. Showing his back to another person without thinking twice, as if years of being betrayed on deals haven’t taught him anything. A warmth on his back takes him away from such thoughts, grounding him in an instance. Cobb takes off his cape and starts unfastening his chest plate. Din draws in air, the distance between them so small that he feels the man’s breath on the back of his neck. His heart skips a beat, the tips of his ears burning. It’s tremendously intimate for Din. Someone removing his beskar with such care and attention is practically veneration. A trust that can’t be unbroken. It doesn’t terrify him. If anything, it lights a dangerous spark inside of him that threatens to consume him whole. It burns deep into his very core, spreading through his limbs, and makes him exhale shakily. Cobb notices, hands stopping right under his ribcage, and Din swears his loud heartbeat can be heard.

There it is, that fear blooming again of messing it up with the man. He shuts his eyes, waiting for that warmth to disappear, but nothing happens. Cobb’s fingers twitch, brushing against the flight suit fabric before going back to work, not saying a word. Din helps to take it off, now just leaving the cauldrons on his shoulders. The silver-haired man traces the mudhorn symbol with his thumb, a story for another day. Din waits for Cobb to step back but the touch lingers, now stripped to his suit and looking more like a simple man. The man sighs, the air tickling Din’s neck and making him shudder.

“You will leave,” Cobb whispers and the moment is broken. Din frowns, turning his face to see the man. Their noses are almost brushing and, from this close, he can see that shade of grey and brown in those eyes. Still, his scowl deepens, so the man continues. “I thought… You asked Peli for the ship, so… When do you plan to go?”

Din turns all the way, Cobb’s hands falling back to his sides. “You’re upset.”

A chuckle. “Well, it ain’t every day we have a new face around here, I suppose. Just asking.”

The inevitable will come, but not today and not so soon. That he knows. He sees in Cobb’s eyes the concern, an anxiety Din knows very well. A longing. He swallows, shaking his head lightly.

“The ship is a precaution… You know how unpredictable things can be and I wouldn’t want to put your town in danger.” he murmurs. “For now, I will stay as long as you want me.”

Cobb huffs with a smile, looking away. “You  _ really _ don’t know what you’re saying, Mando.”

“Din.” The name rolls out of his mouth before he can stop himself. If he’s not careful, his heart will go too. “My name is Din Djarin.”

It’s worth it. It’s so worth it because Cobb’s eyes shine and his whole posture changes. They exchange a look and Din thinks he’ll drown in them, that he won’t even fight it. When his name leaves Cobb’s lips, it’s exhilarating. The corners of his own mouth tug into a smile and the silver-haired man is so content with such little information. Din wants this. Whatever  _ this _ is.

He craves it desperately and he’ll hold onto it.

  
  


* * *

A whole week passes after that night and Din’s more comfortable when leaving the house. He’s been helping Cobb here and there, fixing broken fences and participating in trades a couple of times. Signing in Tusken and teaching it to some folks as well, so there won’t be any trouble. Din still only reveals his face to Cobb, in the privacy of their walls, and he learns how to cook more with the man’s help. Sometimes, they’ll catch their gaze even if they’re in opposite ends of town. It never fails to amaze Din how easily Cobb finds his eyes, even through the helmet. He knows exactly where to look and it makes the mandalorian’s heart flutter every time. Most days, Din wakes up with Cobb holding him close. No matter how many times he tries not to move at night, they always end up with their legs tangled. As if there’s a pull between them, bringing them closer and closer. They never mention it, one of them moving first. The brown-haired man lets himself be selfish, taking whatever he can get.

The nightmares don’t leave, though. Right now, they haunt Din behind his eyelids. There’s a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, hands twitching, and he hears Grogu crying. He hears as clear as day, the kid screaming in the background while he’s being choked to death. Din gags with the blood in his mouth, beskar sinking into his skin, and those red piercing eyes sucking the life out of him. He wants to cry for Grogu so desperately and the pain is unbearable. All he can think is how he failed to protect the child, that he won’t ever see him again. The nightmare is so excruciating and vivid, trapping him in a loop that he can’t break. Din sweats, eyes moving fast behind eyelids, but a voice threatens to stop it all. It starts so faintly, barely there. Then it grows and grows, like light pouring from an open wound, and-

“Din, wake up.” A tap on his cheek jolts him awake but this time, he’s too exhausted to react. He blinks slowly, disoriented, until Cobb comes into view. Looming over him, pursing his lips. “You were screaming, darlin’...”

The brown-haired man knits his eyebrows, the nickname waking him up some more. Cobb looks embarrassed for a second but asks if he’s alright. Din’s dazed, mind not quite clear yet, and his left cheek is warm. He frowns more, raising a hand towards it, only to land over Cobb’s. He sighs, leaning into the touch as if it’s the most natural thing to do, and the marshal makes a sound. Din’s heart is beating like a drum, adrenaline still pumping in his veins, but Cobb soothes him with whispers. Saying where they are, what day it is. Fuck. Din knows he should feel bad over the man waking up so many nights because of him, but, by the stars, he’s so grateful to have someone in these moments. To have him. Cobb grounds him, that calloused hand keeping him whole, and a thumb caresses his cheek. Din closes his eyes with a long sigh, slowly relaxing in bed. The silver-haired man moves slightly and, next thing he knows, their foreheads are resting against each other. Din lets out a strangled noise, eyes fluttering back open, and Cobb whispers everything will be okay. When he moves away, Din remains frozen, staring at the ceiling, and there’s shuffling before a silver ball catches his attention.

“I know you carry this with you. Thought it could help.”

Din takes it, twirls it around his fingers, head resting against the soft pillow. Voice hoarse from screaming in his sleep.

“It reminds me of him,” he mutters. “Grogu.”

The marshal lies back down next to Din, droopy eyes from just waking up, but they won’t sleep so soon. The mandalorian’s heart slows down and he tries to forget the imprint Cobb left with his touch. What that meant for him and him alone. The softness of the man's voice in the dark room is out of this world. He whispers about working on a mine years ago, when he was a slave. Din didn't bring it up since that day in Mos Eisley, when he spoke Huttese. Now, this is another sign of their trust, having Cobb openly talk about such a dark time. He turns around so they're both side by side, listening to stories of a younger man with a collar around his neck. Cobb remembers one of the mines collapsing and giving him that scar, on his temple. From this angle, that red line is so close, Din wants to touch it. Instead, he refrains himself and imagines a boy with a mole under his left eye, born a slave. Having to work hard his whole life, being hurt but also hurting back. Doing whatever he needed to survive, even if it meant staining his own hands with crimson.

As sorrowful as the stories are, it soothes them both in that night. Maybe because it's in the past and now, they are just humans lying on a bed. Craving nothing but each other's comfort. Din places that metal ball under the pillow and he stares at Cobb, searching for the stars in those hazel eyes. Din licks his lips and dares to try something, slowly raising his hands towards the man. Cobb frowns but waits, letting himself be pulled closer. This time, it's Din that hugs the other. He wraps his arms around Cobb's naked skin, feeling those whip scars, and the silver-haired man tucks his head under the mandalorian's chin. Din holds back a tremble and Cobb curls himself perfectly there. His turn to make sure the other is safe. There's a smile pressed against his chest and he breathes into silver hair, brushing his nose against it. Their legs tangle, both aware of it this time. Cobb caresses Din's calf with his foot, a hand sliding under the hem of his shirt. It's delightful. Intoxicating.

Din never wants to forget that feeling.

When the morning comes, however, he wakes up alone. There are no arms around his waist or that light snore he got used to it. The bed is empty on his right side, tapping a hand on cold sheets. Din cleans his eyes with a grumble, stretching before sitting up, and he hears shuffling in the house. He stands up to follow, walking out of the room with a scowl and calling for the other. Cobb comes into view by that small table they share their meals, finishing zipping up a bag. He’s fully dressed up, sand goggles and all. Long coat and green scarf. A blaster on his side and no doubt a knife hidden in one of his combat boots. The brown-haired man watches him picking up the rest of some bags, confused, and he asks where the man’s going. Cobb looks up at him, frozen in place, and they exchange a look. The marshal grimaces, sighing before walking up to him, gravity pulling them together.

“Something came up,” Cobb mutters but quickly adds after Din’s worried features. “Nothing serious, just… Barduir was supposed to go to Mos Eisley and negotiate with a possible supplier, but his kid ain’t feeling well so he needs to stay. I will replace him instead.”

Din nods. “Then I’ll go with you.”

“I need you here,” the silver-haired man shakes his head, an apology in those eyes already. “Din, I trust you a great deal… I need someone like you to watch for my town while I’m gone. I shouldn’t be gone for more than three days. Hell, maybe less.”

The mandalorian blinks, taking it all in, and he tightens his lips. It’s not ideal. Cobb shouldn’t be going alone, despite him reassuring it will be okay. Danger can come without mercy and with no need for a reason. Din saw enough of that to know. It must show on his face, because Cobb huffs with a smile and calls him silly. It’s not meant to be an insult. It’s affectionate, the words warm in his mouth, and Din feels like a child making a tantrum. There are so many things in his mind after their conversation last night, he wanted to see where it would go the following day. Disappointment kisses his heart, the thought of being alone in this house terrifying him. Cobb calls his name softly and a hand touches the back of Din’s neck, bringing them closer until their foreheads touch again. The brown-haired man closes his eyes in an attempt to keep his emotion at bay, afraid to look at the other and let everything pour from his wounded heart. They stay like that for a good minute, just breathing in, and he wants to ask what this is. What is this raw emotion overwhelming them? And can he have it? Please, let him have it.

“I gotta go now,” Cobb says, stepping back and placing the saddlebags strap over his shoulder. He winks with a grin, turning around when heading to the front door. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Din watches him leave and Cobb takes something from him, just like Grogu did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to share a song that didn't make it into the playlist because it didn't match the tone but I love it!! It screams not only Din but Cobb to me, so I thought yall would enjoy!! :D
> 
> Youtube link to the song: [Woke Up A Rebel by Reuben and the Dark](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1rVomBlf3X8)  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

Din has breakfast alone, drinking down his caf, and he walks into the refresher to clean himself. He trims his scruffy beard and moustache, tucking brown strands of hair behind his ear. Bangs long enough to brush down his forehead. Din dresses up with a long sleeved shirt and loose pants, a dark blue poncho over it with faded patterns. He puts on his combat boots, adding his belt with a blaster, and that orange scarf Cobb gave him. It matches the ends of his gloves. Din leaves after putting on his helmet, walking on warm sand, and he checks the side of the house. Cobb’s speeder is gone, as it was expected, but it still only makes his absence louder. Din holds back a sigh and focuses on checking the town. The people know him enough by now, greeting and smiling. He waves back a couple of times, daring a little. The market is alive and he talks to familiar faces, asking if things are under control. He’s made company to Cobb before, when he was patrolling the area, so he knows the drill.

The school is close to being done, so Din makes his way there to help with the finishing touches. He recognizes Evera at the front doors, her hair braided this time, and she smiles at him. She doesn’t waste any time, already asking him to help with the heavy weight, and he’s more than happy to have a distraction. Inside the building, there are chairs and small tables to be set, and it’s all very simple. Crude. Yet, it’s the beginning of a better time for these people and it means more than it looks. Din helps patiently, listening to Evera talk. There’s another helper too, a young woman called Mona with copper hair. Face covered with freckles. Between stories, Din even shares a couple of his own. A few with Grogu slipping from his lips and they pause to listen, as though knowing it means a lot to him. Their presence is kind and comfortable. Not quite like Cobb’s, but enough to know he really is in a safe place. However, when there's nothing more that he can do, he politely excuses himself.

It's been rather peaceful, nothing too complicated to deal with lately, so Din goes back to the marshal's place. There's no way in denying how much better he feels once inside, but the silence is heavier without the owner of this home. Din, after removing his helmet, purses his lips. He should know better. After all these years, moving from planet to planet, he shouldn't be bothered by loneliness. He shouldn't be so wounded after Grogu, that every change seems too grand. It’s such a remarkable emotion, though. It’s bonded to the very core of him, a primal feeling that makes him so very human. Cobb is so radiant, it’s impossible not to notice his absence. Din runs a hand through his hair, walking into the house, grabbing anything that takes his mind out of the dark. He watches whatever is being broadcasted on the holocaster, leaving it as background noise when making his lunch. Hell, he even finds a worn out book. The pages yellow and crumpled. It’s full of poems and Din reads it all.

At night, the thoughts finally get to him. Wondering what the hell he’s doing there, in the middle of nowhere. Doubting himself. Imagining the child training with that Jedi. Bo-Katan’s face. A rage underneath that blank expression. Din tells himself he should be doing what he does best. Hunting. Killing. He should be out there, gathering credits and flying in a ship. The thing is, though… Din is not the same man as he was before, right? Grogu, with those tiny hands of his, molded the mandalorian’s heart anew. God. Who would’ve thought? A mandalorian, with a broken creed, missing a son and something else he can’t quite describe. Eventually, he does sleep but there is no one around when he wakes up in a fright. No whispers in the night, a touch on his cheek. Din deals with them alone, just like before. It doesn’t mean he enjoys it and it’s ridiculous. He never felt more childish and selfish, wishing for the other’s company.

It comes to no surprise to Din when he visits Evera the next day.

Boredom finds him sooner than he thought it would and, at first, he asks about the vaporator and if it’s giving her any trouble. Evera sees right through his bullshit, smiling and telling him to come inside her home. It’s an identical structure of Cobb’s, except there’s an extra room that belonged to her daughter. She moved out last year after getting married and Evera told him there’s a baby on the way, happy to be a grandma soon. Din looks around, admiring the simple decorations. Portraits here and there. Marks on a wall done to measure a kid’s height and old toys neatly placed on a shelf. It makes Din wonder how Evera felt upon her daughter moving away. He asks, although concerned if it's an uncomfortable subject, but she waves him off. They sit down at her table, a tea cup in her hands, and that's where he learns about loss. The effects it can give you and how powerful a bond can be. He listens of her missing her daughter more than anything in the world. That she wants her back every day, yet knows it's for the best. Din tightens his hands on his lap.

"Vanth has talked a lot about you, you know," she smiles, sipping from her tea. "You're good for each other."

Din frowns. "How can you know that?"

"I don't need to see your face to read you, my son… You wear a mask to cover it but forget your heart is out in the open."

There's a pause and the brown-haired man swallows, doubt blooming in his mind. Even if that's the truth, there's no way to know the outcome of it all. If Cobb will have something to say about this, about… them. Perhaps it's all just Din, so broken that he let himself fall too much.

"I…" he trails off, not quite sure of what to say. "I'm not gonna be here forever."

"Then you shouldn't waste time, child."

Evera's voice follows Din even when leaving and he's a total disarray. Hope entwined with fear. With doubt and expectation, wanting to start something new. Wondering if he should poke this thing between Cobb and him. How did he get himself into this mess? What happened to him? He could… He could really just leave. Now. He could put on his armor and walk out of there before Cobb arrives, not looking back. Din could just forget about these emotions, bury them deep down again, and move on. It would save him a lot of trouble. The image of Cobb returning, calling for him only to have no answer in that empty home, sends a pang into Din’s heart. The marshal doesn’t deserve that, he knows. The mandalorian is fooling himself, pretending it wouldn’t hurt to do such a thing. To go and never see the man again. He knows that pain too well by now and he doesn’t wish it to anyone, especially Cobb.

It’s in the afternoon that he hears the humming of a speeder.

Din’s at the porch, metal ball in hand, and his heart betrays him by skipping a beat. He walks back into the house, placing the toy back into his pocket, and he pays attention to movements outside. There’s the engine being turned off, followed by a couple of voices. Greetings and cheers. Din recognizes Cobb’s laugh in the middle of it all and he just stands there, in the living room, listening. His heart picks up, waiting, and there’s chatter for a good minute before it fades out. Din closes his hands into fists at footsteps approaching the house. When the front door slides open, brown eyes meet hazel. Cobb walks in and, despite looking tired, he sends a toothy smile at the mandalorian. His hair is disheveled from the wind, cheeks flushed from being under the suns too long, and he steps closer as if going for a hug but stops himself midway. Din draws in air, wanting it, yet unable to move.

“Hey,” the marshal huffs and he’s staring at the brown-haired man as though in disbelief. Stunned. Hands fidgeting on his sides. “You’re here.”

It hits Din that Cobb considered the possibility of him leaving for good. That he should’ve been prepared to find an empty house. The mandalorian shakes his head, murmuring that he waited, and the marshal’s smile is soft. Then, Din cowards by looking away. There's a shift in Cobb's face, barely there but the mandalorian can tell. The urge to close the small distance between them is gone as quickly as it came. Cobb walks past him and his voice fills in the silence, talking about what happened during the trip. That the dealer tried to trick him at first, thinking Cobb was naive. Din’s worry blooms even more when the man shows his right arm briefly, a thin fabric wrapped around it to cover a cut there. Dried blood showing. The mandalorian clenches his teeth, knowing that he should have come, but Cobb waves him off. Says that the guy will never dare to do something like that again, that he will behave and do what was planned. Din asks how he’s so sure of it and the marshal sends a grin from his bedroom door frame.

“I showed how better I am with his knife,” is his answer. “Left something to remember me by.”

Din holds back a shudder at the thought of watching Cobb handling the dealer and taking over the situation. It’s arousing, really. To know there’s this side of the man. That his hands are not clean, just like Din’s. Cobb walks into his room, continuing to talk casually, so the mandalorian follows just enough to hear, leaning against the wall next to the door. Cobb says he also brought medicines for Barduir’s kid and whoever might need them, which is good news. The brown-haired man hums every now and then, assuring the man that he’s there. Cobb groans, dying to get rid of all that dust and grime, and Din keeps his eyes glued to the floor when the other passes by him before heading to the refresher. A glimpse of skin out of the corner of his eye.

Stars above, he’s doomed.

He’s utterly enamored, isn’t he? Din drags a hand over his face and walks into the bedroom, wanting to shut down his mind with sleep. He doesn’t know how to be around Cobb right now, not without simply longing for more. Craving so much it sends a pang into his heart. So he lies down on his side of the bed, tries not to breathe in the fresh scent of Cobb coming out of the bathroom. The silver-haired man is quiet when getting dressed and Din doesn’t move, pretending to be asleep. There’s no weight shifting the mattress, only footsteps fading, so the mandalorian assumes the other will find something to eat. He hopes that’s the case, for Cobb was on a long journey. He surely needs to take care of himself and Din made sure to leave something ready for him. The brown-haired man pushes his legs up against his chest, curling as much as he can, and he takes a deep breath. He dozes off a couple of times, never fully sleeping and jolting himself awake before any nightmare gets to him. Din’s not certain how much time it passes, but the pillow next to him remains empty.

With that uneasiness in the bottom of his stomach, he gets up. Din makes his way out of the bedroom, the silence buzzing in his ears, and it’s dark around him. He narrows his eyes, stepping into the kitchen only to see Cobb’s silhouette against the counter. The moons dare to cast a faint light there, enough to notice a half empty cup of spotchka in the man’s hand. The marshal perks up at him, straightening his posture, and he has that soft look again. A silver strand over his forehead, a white baggy shirt and sweatpants. Din wishes to freeze time, if only for a second, just to admire that for a little longer. He bottles up that image, keeps it close to his heart, and hopes to never forget it. Cobb sends him a smile, albeit tight. It’s incredible how Din knows every different smile the man gives him.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks.

“Somethin’ like that.” Cobb finishes his drink before setting down on the counter. “You?”

Din huffs, shrugging. “Something like that.”

The marshal lets out a laugh and they exchange a look, sharing a grin. Cobb bites his lip, eyes wandering all over the mandalorian’s face. Din swallows, feet glued to the floor, and there’s a groan between them. Cobb pinches the end of his nose and mutters incoherently before walking up to him.

"Din, I… Listen, I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything," he begins. "But while I was gone, these past few days have been a real drag. I know you haven't been here for long and I know you must have other plans, so I don't blame you." Another pause and his face scrunches up, as if the confidence he once found is slipping away. Din waits, heart in his throat at the last soft words. "What I'm trying to say is… I missed you. I really did and I wanted to come back home, but I was afraid you'd be gone and yet… Here you are."

The thought of having his feelings reciprocated, even by just a single fraction of what he carries, rips out a low whimper from Din. He leans closer, their noses almost brushing, and Cobb draws in air. The mandalorian's heart beats like a drum, loud in the room, and there's that pause of expectation. That moment before a decision. Truth be told, Din is exhausted from holding his emotions in a dark corner. It gets to a point that is too painful. Suffocating. There is fear of trying, that is certain, but desperation speaks louder as time goes. The yearning that drives their soul. Din sees a peak of a light in Cobb's words, shining into his wounds, and he wants it. He goes weak, a hesitating hand moving to touch the man's but moving nonetheless. When Cobb entwines their fingers, calling his name in question, Din closes his eyes at the sound. He tightens their hold.

"I know what you mean," he murmurs. "I didn't want you to leave at all. I felt… I felt…"

"Hollow."

Din opens his eyes at Cobb's answer, staring behind eyelashes, and he nods. The silver-haired man lets out a huff and raises his other hand, making his way up to the other’s face. Din stands still, not daring to take his eyes away from Cobb’s. The touch on his right cheek is warm and light, unsure at first. He does his best to tame his heart, if only for a second, just to appreciate every single movement against his skin. Cobb traces his features with the tip of his fingers, a caress down his temple and the curve of his nose. Din’s eyes flutter, breathing unsteadily, and the man cups his face with more confidence. Cobb’s calloused hands explore every inch of him, like he’s memorizing it with touch alone. The mandalorian shudders when he caresses his hair, cupping the back of his neck. They lean in to rest their foreheads against each other and Din wraps his own hands around Cobb’s wrists, keeping him there. Dear god, what an exhilarating feeling. Such a simple thing that brings him down to his knees. There’s so much adoration pouring from his heart for Cobb, it leaves him breathless.

“Din.”

And what a joy, to hear his name from that man’s lips like is a prayer. As though he’s deserving of worship. Din bumps their noses, pressing his chest against the other’s, and Cobb’s breathing picks up. The brown-haired man mirrors the movement, letting his hands slide up to the other’s neck, and words are forgotten. There is no room for that right now. They only know each other. The moment their lips brush, a cold jolt runs through Din’s body and he shuts his eyes to keep himself whole. Cobb leans in lightly once more, their mouths barely touching, and they share their breath. They’re both waiting, cherishing every second of it and not wanting to let it go. It’s Din who closes the small gap between them first and yet, it happens incredibly slow. He opens his mouth against Cobb’s, both gasping, and their beards brush. Those hands tighten into his hair as an incentive and their hot breaths hit their cheeks. The silver-haired man tilts his head and kisses him deeply, an arm making his way around his waist, and Din forgets to be. He just feels Cobb’s lips against his, tastes a hint of spotchka, and he sighs lovingly. Their kiss makes a sound when pulling away but there’s no time wasted right now, for they soon meet again. Din pecks that wet mouth over and over, bringing their bodies closer.

Cobb moans, tilting his head to the other side, and the mandalorian’s knees buckle at the first hint of tongue. His jaw goes slack, wanting it desperately, and Cobb is as greedy as him. Their kiss deepens, a groan in the back of Din’s throat, and it’s obscene how loud they are in the middle of the night. Cobb bites his bottom lip before pulling back, leaving the mandalorian chasing for more. They catch their breaths and Din bumps his nose against the man’s cheek, drunk with affection. Cobb asks if it's alright, if he wants this, and Din wants to laugh. All he knows is  _ want _ . The mandalorian mumbles an answer, begging for them to kiss again, and the other groans into his mouth. He's gently pushed back, both of them swaying little by little. Din sighs when Cobb trails down his jaw, kissing his neck and hugging him close. Beard scratching his skin lightly, making him chuckle. He feels the marshal smiling between love bites and it drives him mad.

They make their way into the bedroom, albeit not gracefully. Cobb bumps against the dresser and Din holds him tighter, preventing him from falling, and he catches the man’s chuckle into his mouth. Hands tug on his shirt, fingers brushing on his skin and making him shudder. Din raises his arms, letting the marshal take off his shirt, and he returns the favor. The moment his eyes land on Cobb’s bare chest, he sighs with so much relief that it makes him stop to recompose. The brown-haired man explores that tan skin with care and Cobb takes a deep breath, both admiring each other. He makes his way around the other, to see those scars on his back. The marshal stands still, looking over his shoulder, and Din breathes against that star-shaped mark. He kisses it, wrapping his arms around Cobb’s waist, and there’s a hum. Warm arms over his. Din hopes his emotions translate in these small actions. That the light brush of his lips over scars screams of adoration. Cobb calls his name and he’s met with a smile, then the sweetest of kisses.

“I know you think of me as someone good...” the silver-haired man mumbles, turning around to cup Din’s face once more. The mandalorian holds back a whimper, leaning into the touch. “I’ve done terrible things to get where I am, to have a roof over my head… But, by the stars, I would do them all again, if I had to. Especially if it means finding you.”

“Cobb.”

“Darlin’...”

Din can’t bring himself to speak more than the man’s name and he melts at that nickname, pulling them into a heated kiss. That burning passion between them picking up again. Cobb guides them towards the bed and Din’s knees buckle, falling into the mattress. The man looms over him, their chests rising up and down, and the mandalorian’s face burns under that gaze. Cobb’s hand trails down his stomach, brushing on his happy trail there and leaning down for more kisses. Din tenses up with every touch, sensitive and yet craving it all. They make out in bed for so long, as if they need to satiate this hunger. To kill the time that they have lost. However, it’s not enough. It will never be enough. Din pushes his hips up against Cobb’s and they groan, the small friction setting them alight. Their lips make a sound, pulling back to breathe, and they exchange a look. Cobb looks gorgeous. His mouth red and wet from kissing. Disheveled hair and pupils wide. That hand goes back on his skin, calloused fingers tugging at the hem of his pants, and he draws in air.

Cobb watches him, tentatively pulling the fabric down before finding what he wants. A mewl comes out of Din’s mouth and the silver-haired man touches him slowly, watching him close. If Heaven were to be a place, it would be there. With profane hymns and raw lust. They feel one another, getting rid of their pants, and Din’s mouth waters at that sight. He brings himself up, sitting on Cobb’s lap there, and their embrace is warm. Din brushes his lips on the man’s shoulder, breathing in, and he whispers to be guided. To learn this passionate dance. Cobb smiles and he’s gentle.  _ So _ gentle it should be unfair. And to think that Din’s scarlet hands, marked by time and regrets, can make that man sing, is obscene. They match their hunger with every touch and kiss, with every moan in that dark room. Cobb stretches him open while whispering sweet nothings into his ear and Din rides into that hand as though his life depends on it. He plants hickeys on the marshal’s neck, touching his shaft, and he memorizes the small freckles on his skin. He adores all the perfections and imperfections. All the scars and marks of time.

Surrender.

That’s what love is. Din feels it now.

He surrenders and the heat below his navel growns, making his toes curl. The moment Cobb is inside him, time ceases. They lie back down, Din’s head resting on a pillow, and they kiss without a single rush in their hearts. He locks his legs around Cobb’s waist, bringing their bodies impossibly closer, and they move together. Din shudders and gasps, throwing his head back at every spark of pleasure. The marshal curses under his breath and the fire burns between them, mattress shuffling underneath. The brown-haired man sinks his nails into tan skin, mouth falling open and eyes shutting tight. Cobb thrusts into him, bringing them to the edge little by little, and it’s pure euphoria. Din begs between moans, tightening their hold, and the other gives what he wants. They quicken their pace, their skin smacking, and every muscle of his body tenses up. In a brief moment of clarity, Din switches them around and Cobb lets out a huff. He lies on top of the marshal and rolls his hips, dragging the movement to make his lover moan. Intense pleasure builds up and Din swears, thighs trembling when he comes on their stomachs. He lets out a shaky breath into Cobb’s mouth, hips jerking with every wave, and his eyes roll back.

Cobb thrusts into him a couple of times before following him into bliss, spasming underneath him. Din watches him with glassy eyes, cupping his face, and he clenches around that warmth. The marshal sighs and Din leans down for a lazy kiss, calming down their hearts. The mandalorian buries his face in the crook of Cobb’s neck that he would like to call home and he smiles at the light kisses on his shoulder. The silver-haired man makes a motion to pull out but Din grunts, mumbling for him to wait a little bit longer. Cobb huffs and caresses his hair, their legs tangled. He wouldn’t be able to tell where he begins and where his lover ends. Din does let go of him at some point and Cobb gets up, disappearing for a moment but returning with a damp cloth to clean then. Din’s grateful, unsure if his legs would hold him right now. The marshal returns to him in bed, tenderly taking care of them, and the nudity of it all does not bring him shame. It’s incredible. Intimate. To see a partner completely exposed, his guard down, with nothing between their skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” Din mutters, half thinking, and Cobb snorts with a smile when putting the cloth away.

The man cups his face, both sitting in the middle of the bed, and he shakes his head. “And you have no idea what you do to me…”

“I think I do.”

Cobb huffs a laugh and Din bottles that sound, watching him lie back down. The silver-haired man makes a motion with his hand and the mandalorian follows without question. He lies next to Cobb, wrapped in the man’s arms, and he sighs between them. Listens to Cobb’s beating heart, drumming into his ear. Alive and warm. There. Din closes his eyes and mumbles that, if this is the first dream he has in years, he wishes not to wake up. He doesn’t want this to end. Let this be real and not a mirage. The marshal tigthens his hold, caressing Din’s back with light fingers, and he whispers that they don’t have to wake up at all. That they can just stay like that, as long as they want. The afterglow falls over them like a blanket and Din plants soft kisses on the man’s skin, fighting the laziness that came. Cobb runs his fingers on brown curls and a part of Din crawls into the cracks of old wounds. He makes his way into the man’s very core and makes himself a home there. He’s sure Cobb found a place in him as well, settling in as if he was always there in the first place. 

He feels it.

* * *

Din wakes up first.

The light of a new day shines faintly in the room, specks of dust in the air, and the old windmill creaks in the background. Din’s lying on his side, watching Cobb lightly snoring. Mouth ajar, hair messy. Dark eyes travel down to the man’s neck, admiring the love marks he left there, and a curl of possessiveness settles in his stomach. The man’s face is relaxed in his sleep, lying on his stomach. Completely trusting the mandalorian to keep him safe. To tear down his walls and let him in. How crazy it is to think Din can have this. That he got so close to feel that unbound hunger. So that’s what he does. He admires the man next to him, their hearts calmly beating, and it’s so peaceful. Something he longed to find. He memorizes the way Cobb stirs himself awake. The marshal stretches his body with a long sigh, burying his face into the pillow like a lazy cat, and Din grins at that.

“You’re spoiling me…” Cobb murmurs, cleaning his eyes before looking at the other, and his voice is hoarse from sleep. Slurred. “Getting used to waking up like this.”

Din’s smile falters a little, the reality of it all hitting him. That there will be a day that Cobb will wake up alone, in a cold bed, whilst he’s far away. The last thing he wants is to hurt the man but, when the inevitable comes, something tells him it will be extremely difficult. It will be like stretching the line between them to its full extent, tugging it more than it should. An uncomfortable tension, worried that it will snap at any moment. An inch they won’t be able to scratch. Cobb shifts closer, pulling himself up by the elbows, and he calls Din. Notices how he got lost in unwanted but true thoughts. The brown-haired man blinks, that weight he constantly carries on his shoulders almost crushing him for a split second. He purses his lips, a light frown taking a place on his face, and Cobb touches his cheek. Caresses his thumb there, looming over him. The man licks his lips and asks if Din knows what Peli told him that day. The mandalorian shakes his head. He wanted to ask, the scene of her pulling Cobb closer sparking curiosity in him.

“She told me not to let you go,” the silver-haired man whispers. “Now, I know you have a path to follow… But you won’t ever go, not to me. You won’t leave me, Din, because you’re here.” At that, his other hand seeks for the mandalorian’s, bringing it up to his chest. Heart beating underneath his palm. “You got that, sweetheart?”

Din swallows, throat tightening, and nods.

They share a chaste kiss and they stay in bed all morning, finally allowing themselves to rest and enjoy one another. They only get up to go to the refresher and Din brings them caf in the bedroom, wanting them to put something in their stomachs. There’s no need for clothes and Din admires how confident Cobb walks in his room, with that slender waist and long legs. Sheets tangle and they make out for what feels like a personal infinite. The brown-haired man holds him dearly, tries to express everything that he cannot with words by touch. Cobb smiles against his skin, chuckles at a tickling spot on his side, and Din devours him. The mandalorian takes him from behind, buries that gorgeous face into a pillow, and the muffled moans are prayers to his ears. Din breathes into his skin, smelling the sun itself, and their hands entwined. Knuckles turning white in their moment of passion. Panting in the room and tangling their legs. It’s as thrilling as it was before. Unforgettable.

When hours pass, they gather enough courage to clean themselves and get dressed. Din puts on dark green, long-sleeved shirt, and comfortable pants. Cobb dresses up more, having to go out soon to check on his town. The mandalorian walks up to the kitchen, huffling his dark curls, and he starts heating up some soup for them. He gathers two bowls from the right cupboard and he perks up at footsteps coming to a stop. Din looks to his left and Cobb is there, staring at him. Long coat and hoister back on. The brown-haired man recognizes that expression on his face. Those stars in hazel eyes. Din gazes back, the ghostly whispers of their words last night brushing in his mind. Of them giving in for the first time and their hearts meeting halfway. Cobb shakes his head lightly, walking up to him, His voice like honey.

“I really meant it, you know?” he murmurs. “What I said back there… Last night too. All of it… I want you. God, I want you so much.”

Din’s heart clenches and his lips part, raising a hand to tug on the man’s beard. To take a look at him and let their noses brush. He leans in, resting their foreheads together, and places his other hand over the marshal’s heart. Cobb covers his hand with his, taking a deep breath, and Din closes his eyes. He waits a moment, then lets the light pour out of his wound. He forgets the what-ifs and I-don’t-know’s.

“And I want you, Cobb.” The mandalorian reveals himself further and he leans back just enough for their eyes to meet. “You’re half of me now.”

Din knows they both have their sharp edges. They are raw and crooked in some ways. Had to be in order to survive. However, they somehow hid their softness from the darkness they’ve been through. They took care of it, even when they thought they didn’t deserve it. Din sees through Cobb. All the harm and choices he has made and is not afraid to do it again, just like the mandalorian. They are not perfect and yet, they fit like a piece of a puzzle. Cobb smiles at him and Din’s darkness backs away. Hides in a corner, trembling and weak. Their love, as any other, is bound to leave a mark but Din will proudly wear the scar it leaves. He will fight with bare hands and teeth to keep their flame alight, to protect this man. Cobb wraps his arms around him and their lips meet, beards brushing. Din sighs, running his hand on silver hair, and he tastes that sweet nectar in his tongue. When they part, Cobb whispers that they will be alright. That smile of his turning eyes into half-moons. And Din believes it.

He believes it wholeheartedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really excited to post this final chapter these last few days and I can't wait to know what you guys think! Thank you so much for reading!! You guys have been lovely and I appreciate every single kudo, view, comment, everything. It's been quite some time since I properly wrote something down and I was anxious, but it felt good to post again. I don't want to make any promises, but I do have an AU idea I would like to work on. I am a slow writer though, so bear with me. Still, would love some feedback and know if you all would be interested in it! Again, thank you so much! May our paths cross again! <3
> 
> [Playlist on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/49IjFuFLhM3H3Chp3oxLf8?si=mLJ9pO2XR7mSeKfvhHqGEA)  
> 


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